


Divine Wrath Is Hard To Come By These Days

by afterandalasia



Series: The Issues of Sharing a Room with Supernatural Fandom [2]
Category: AO3 Tags, Fandom (Anthropomorphic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, And Then It Got Out of Hand, Apologies to the Wranglers, Biblical References, Crack, Fear The Wrath Of Abrahamic Religions, Other, Wranglers Are Not Adult Supervision
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-12 12:16:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2109618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterandalasia/pseuds/afterandalasia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not as if there's usually much question of who is to blame if something goes missing in their room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Divine Wrath Is Hard To Come By These Days

**Author's Note:**

  * For [supergreak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/supergreak/gifts), [misslucy21](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misslucy21/gifts), [Aoife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aoife/gifts), [hhertzof](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hhertzof/gifts), [IShouldBeWriting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IShouldBeWriting/gifts), [Hagar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hagar/gifts).



> Inspired by a conversation in the Campfire in which the existence of the fiery whip wielded by the angel Kushiel came up. Yes, really. This was itself in response to an episode of the TV series _Sleepy Hollow_ which featured a _Lesser Key of Solomon_ in German being used to open a portal to hell. It's a strange feeling when Supernatural is not the biggest troublemaker around.
> 
> This still doesn't represent official OTW or AO3 policyt, and is meant with all the love in the world for Abrahamic Religions and the new Western European & Related Occult Traditions fandoms and how many of Supernatural's problems they seem to end up solving.

Sleepy Hollow is going to pay.

There have been plenty of individuals who have annoyed Abrahamic Religions over the years, not least her reprobate of a roommate, but right at this moment Sleepy Hollow is the worst of the lot, and is going to regret _ever_ borrowing the Lesser Key of Solomon.

Probably not as much as Abrahamic Religions is currently regretting lending it out, but still.

It is barely past nine as she slams open the door to her room, and it is not even until it bangs against the wall that she remembers that Supernatural rarely stirs from her bed before midday. Without looking round, she winces and closes the door more quietly, waiting for the swearing to begin. This time, however, the room remains silent.

Frowning, Abrahamic Religions finally turns, to find the room empty. Supernatural’s bed is a rumpled mess, but sadly the clothes scattered across are no clue as to whether or not it has been slept in.

“Fine,” she mutters to herself. The one time that Supernatural is not the most awkward part of her life, the girl isn’t even present. Perhaps that is a good thing.

Stepping over a discarded pair of shoes and retrieving one of her own scarves from Supernatural’s bedside lamp, Abrahamic Religions places her bag onto the bed and drops to her knees to look beneath it. Her own belongings are neat and orderly, but even as she looks in the boxes beneath her bed and the shelf at the top of her closet she cannot find what she is after.

There is only one explanation for things going missing in the room. With a resigned sigh, Abrahamic Religions pulls out her cell phone and calls the inevitable number.

She is surprised when Supernatural answers on the third ring.

 _“Good mooooorning,”_ she sing-songs down the phone. Well, at least that explains some of it.

Abrahamic Religions shakes her head to herself. “Supernatural, how are you still drunk at gone nine?” _“_

 _I’m not drunk!”_ Supernatural protests. _“I’m just feeding the Sarlacc!”_

As if the creature that lived in the school lake is not large enough already. Abrahamic Religions pinches the bridge of her nose. “Fine. Now, where is my whip?”

A long silence stretches down the phone line between them. _“Whip?”_ says Supernatural finally. Abrahamic Religions probably isn’t meant to hear her added: _“Maybe I am drunk...”_

“My Kushiel whip with the fire patterns on the handle,” she says firmly. Supernatural’s antics are one thing, and at least as a roommate Abrahamic Religions can keep an eye on her. Writing in the margins of one of Abrahamic Religions’s prized textbooks – translations, and shoddy ones at that – is another. She will not stand for it. “I need it. Where have you put it?”

 _“That’s_ yours _?”_ says Supernatural, in a slow and faintly bewildered tone of voice. On the far end of the tone, the growling of the Sarlacc is audible.

“That would be why I’m asking for it, yes.”

Once again, Supernatural lapses into silence, either mulling on the deeper meanings of their conversation or throwing another bit of pie crust to the Sarlacc. It takes her a while to manage to put together a reply. _“I thought that was mine.”_

Abrahamic Religions leans her head against her bedside table. “And why would you think it was yours?” she asks slowly, not sure whether or not she wants the answer.

_“I thought I bought it while I was drunk.”_

The answer to a great many questions, all in one. “Of _course_ ,” she replies, voice slightly muffled with weariness. “And where would it be?”

 _“In my sex toy chest,”_ says Supernatural cheerily. Unfortunately, Abrahamic Religions already knows where that is, and crawls across to push the covers out of the way and brave the underside of Supernatural’s bed in turn. _“It might be underneath some of the other stuff by now, I don’t know. Oh, and you have to put in the spreader bar at an angle to get it closed again.”_

As soon as Abrahamic Religions opens the chest, something purple and phallic takes the opportunity to spring out and launch itself across the room at a frankly terrifying velocity. But that is not the matter at hand. Cradling the phone between her ear and her shoulder, she only half-listens to Supernatural talk vaguely about what an _awesome_ night she had out, and she spent ages dancing with Sherlock – or was it with Teen Wolf? – and drank with Marvel. Abrahamic Religions makes a note to check on Norse’s sanity this evening.

She picks gingerly through the items, trying not to pay too much attention to them and just look for her own property. Finally, her hand closes around the handle of the seven-tongued whip with the gold details on the handle. With a sigh of relief, Abrahamic Religions retrieves it and hastily replaces the chest beneath the bed, wrestling the spreader bar into place along the way.

"Got it. _Thank you_ ,” she says. Supernatural may have been genuinely helpful in finding the blasted thing, but it was her who appropriated it in the first place. “Right. Get home safely.”

Just as she is about to hang up, Supernatural once again asks: _“Do you_ really _own a whip?”_

“Yes, Supernatural, I own a whip,” says Abrahamic Religions, feeling rather as if she is trying to explain water to a dolphin somehow. “You didn’t invent these things, you know.”

_“Maybe I should come back and have a lie down.”_

“That’s probably a good idea, yes,” she says, not unkindly. This probably is something of a shock to the system.

Supernatural abruptly hangs up, and Abrahamic Religions is left listening to silence. With a roll of her eyes, she tucks her phone away again, stands up, and hefts the weight of the whip in her left hand. It’s time that she paid Sleepy Hollow a little visit.


End file.
